


Rules

by 14hpgirl19



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, And Melinda Adores Her, F/M, Phil Coulson is Skye's Father, Politics, Politics Are Hard Though So There Won't Be A Lot of Them, President Phil Coulson, Secret Service Agent Melinda May, Skye is the Cutest Kid Ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:52:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/14hpgirl19/pseuds/14hpgirl19
Summary: Agent Melinda May knows the rules and expectations of being in the Secret Service. The President's safety comes first. Then comes the safety of his daughter. She must protect them at all costs and cannot let anything get in the way of her ability to do her job. The very last thing she should be doing is developing an emotional attachment to the pair.But that's exactly what she does, because he's too damn charming and she's too adorable.This can't end well.





	1. Mr. President

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hey, here's this thing I wrote two years ago that a lot of people liked and wanted me to continue. I'm posting it on here in the hopes that I can get the motivation to work on it. Just looking over it again has gotten me excited, so hopefully I'll be able to do more with it soon!

“MELINDA!”

Melinda May had only a few seconds to turn around before a tiny body collided with her legs. Suppressing a smile, she looked down to see Skye Coulson’s toothy grin beaming up at her.

“Someone is in a good mood,” Melinda said. “Any reason why?”

Skye giggled. “You know why, silly.”

Melinda pretended to think about it. “Hmmm… It’s almost the Fourth of July?”

“No!”

“It’s sunny outside?”

“No. It’s my birthday!” Skye declared, bouncing up and down. Melinda slapped her forehead.

“Of course it is! How could I forget that?”

“Because you’re silly,” Skye said matter-of-factly. Melinda smirked and crouched before the little girl. She smoothed the skirt of Skye’s dress, watching as Skye straightened her back.

“Happy birthday, Skye,” Melinda said sincerely. “You look beautiful.”

“Do you think Daddy will like my dress?” Skye twisted this way and that, causing her skirt to flare out slightly.

“I think he will _love_ it.”

“He said he cleared his _entire_ schedule for me,” Skye whispered in awe.

“That’s because he loves you very much.”

Skye began babbling about her party, but Melinda was forced to tune it out when she heard her boss’ voice come through the comms.

“May, we are ready for departure. Bring the First Daughter to the car.”

Melinda pressed her finger to her earwig. “Copy that, sir.” She refocused on Skye, taking one of her hands. “Ready to go, birthday girl?”

Skye nodded eagerly. Keeping a solid grip on Skye’s hand, Melinda led the girl out of her bedroom and through the maze that was the White House. In the past year of being assigned to President Coulson’s security detail, Melinda had grown used to the massive building, to the point where she could probably navigate her way through it blindfolded. Of course, that was almost a necessity to being a part of the Secret Service, but Melinda was still proud of it.

Melinda’s main job was watching out for the President’s five – no, now six-year-old daughter. At public functions, Melinda was to ensure the First Daughter was always protected, and, in the event of danger, could be taken to a secure location. As the year progressed, however, Melinda was regularly assigned to keeping Skye occupied. Sure, she still protected the President and came along whenever he left the White House, but otherwise Skye was her main priority. At first, she disliked being a glorified babysitter, but there was something about the young girl that tugged at Melinda’s heartstrings. It was hard not to fall for her, and that was exactly what Melinda did.

That had not gone unnoticed by Melinda’s boss, even though he had advised her against getting close the first day of Melinda’s assignment. Nick Fury trusted Melinda’s judgement, but he still watched her like a hawk. Admittedly, she couldn’t blame him.

He was watching her closely when she emerged from the side door with Skye in tow. Melinda had been prepared for the scrutiny and had wiped the broad smile from her face just prior to exiting the building.

“Nicky!” Skye cried, rushing to hug the head of her father’s Secret Service. A rare smile appeared on his face.

“Happy birthday, Skye.”

“Thank you!” She glanced around. “Where’s Daddy?”

“Right here, princess.”

The door to the President’s limo had opened the moment Skye came outside, and Phil Coulson emerged at his daughter’s question. It didn’t seem possible, but Skye’s smile had grown even bigger at the sight of her father, and she threw herself at him much like she had at Melinda earlier.

“Happy birthday, baby girl,” he whispered, holding Skye close.

Melinda’s heart nearly exploded with how precious the two of them were. The American public could debate how effective he was as a president until everyone was blue in the face, but no one could dispute his strength as a father. He had won America over with his story of being a single father after Skye’s mother died in a car accident a few years back. He had proven how devoted he was, impressing even the harshest of critics.

(Only momentarily, of course. The mudslinging had resumed twenty-four hours later.)

“Mr. President,” Fury said. “We have to go if we’re going to be on time.”

“Yes, of course.” Coulson helped Skye into the limo and slid in after her. Fury shut the door behind them and turned to Melinda, who almost didn’t get rid of her smile in time. He raised an eyebrow at her before nodding to the SUV designated for security personnel idling in front of the limo.

After Melinda buckled herself into the passenger seat and Fury had taken the wheel, the motorcade had left the White House and begun its trek to the indoor playground Skye’s party was to be held at. Melinda watched the streets of Washington DC fly by, mentally counting the seconds until she got the speech she knew was coming.

“May.”

_Not even a minute._

“Sir.”

“You remember what I told you about getting close to the Coulsons.” It was not a question, and Melinda knew it.

“Yes, sir.”

“And what was it?”

Melinda swallowed. “Don’t.”

“Remember that, Agent May.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

 

Nearly two hours later, the party was in full swing. Children from Skye’s prep school were running around on sugar-induced highs, and their parents (or, their security details) were monitoring it all. The President had implemented a strict “No politics” rule for the day, which most were all too happy to comply with. Coulson himself had stated that he didn’t want Secret Service shadowing his every move, so they were currently lined up against the wall where they could watch from afar. The day was all about Skye. He was just a normal father celebrating his little girl’s birthday.

Melinda had to commend him for it. Very few people in Washington would forego an entire day just for their child, and the fact that the President was one of those people was incredible. It restored a little bit of Melinda’s faith in humanity (and in politicians).

And it was a bonus to see Coulson interact with his daughter. Normally, he looked worn and far older than he actually was. Melinda would be hard pressed to think of a time when he smiled after his inauguration. It was sad, really, to slowly see the life sucked from the man.

But today, he was as every bit vibrant and carefree as he had been prior to his election. He was smiling, he was laughing, he was running around. It was wonderful. Melinda’s heart stuttered ever so slightly each time she caught sight of him. He was a handsome man, and he looked even better when he was alive like this.

“Melinda!” a little voice called. Looking to her right, she spotted Skye running up, her best friends Leo and Jemma right behind her. “Look at what my friends got me!”

“Well, isn’t that something,” Melinda said, taking the doll Skye was holding out. It was a hula girl, complete with a lei and grass skirt.

“Will you play with me later?”

Melinda chose her words carefully, mindful of Fury’s gaze on her back. “We’ll see, okay?”

“Okay!” Skye chirped. Melinda passed the doll back and watched as the children darted off.

“She really likes you, you know.”

Melinda nearly jumped at the sound of a new voice. She internally reminded herself to remain calm.

“Mr. President.”

“A-ah,” Coulson said, giving Melinda a reproving look. “Remember my rule.”

“Mr. Coulson.”

“How about Phil?” Coulson smiled, and Melinda felt heat rise on her cheeks.

“Phil,” she said cautiously. Coulson’s – no, _Phil’s_ smile grew, and Melinda returned it tentatively.

“There. Was that so hard?”

“Yes.”

Phil chuckled, though it held a tinge of sadness. “Yeah, I can see how that might be difficult.” He tilted his head to the side. “Now, I know I’ve met you before, but I don’t think I’ve ever really talked to you. It’s Melinda, correct?”

He posed it as a question, but Melinda knew deep down that he already knew what her name was. Something about that thrilled her.

“Yes.”

“Do you always give one word answers?” he teased. “And, yes, I am counting ‘Mr. President’ and ‘Mr. Coulson’ as one word answers because… because I’m the President, and I can.”

It took all of Melinda’s willpower not to smirk. “No.”

“Oh, you’re good. No wonder you’re a part of the Secret Service.”

Melinda allowed a tiny smile to come forth, which seemed to please Phil. He turned and surveyed the party, leaning close to Melinda so he could still be heard.

“I’ve been wanting to talk with you for some time now, actually,” he confessed. “I know you’re the agent who usually looks after Skye, and I wanted to give you my thanks in person.”

“It’s no problem, sir.”

“Drop the ‘sir’, agent.” His voice was light, which made it impossible for Melinda to contain her next comment.

“Then drop the ‘agent’.”

This caught Phil off guard, but he seemed delighted by it. “Alright, Melinda.”

“Skye is a wonderful girl,” she admitted, trying to ignore the way he was staring at her now. “It’s been a pleasure watching her.”

Phil sighed and resumed overlooking the party. “I was initially worried about how my taking office would affect her. Before, when I was only a senator, she at least had her mom. But then we lost her, and I almost gave up on running. You know what changed my mind?”

“What?”

Phil smiled. “Skye. I wanted to make this country great for her, better for her. And the only way to do that was from the Oval Office.”

“That’s incredible,” Melinda said without thinking. She immediately ducked her head, which drew a laugh from Phil.

“Thank you. Of course, that doesn’t mean I was any less worried for her, but…” He looked at Melinda, and she slowly met his gaze. “I know she’s in good hands.”

Melinda held her breath, staring into his eyes. They were startlingly blue, and Melinda realized she had never been this close to him.

It took only a second for everything to fall apart. An explosion tore through all the childish shrieks and laughter, sending smoke and shrapnel through the room. Melinda didn’t even think before she dragged Phil to the ground, throwing her body on top of his.

The indoor playground was in utter chaos. Screams, no longer happy, filled the air, and security guards could be heard ordering people to get down.

“Does anyone have eyes on the president?” Fury barked through the comms. It took Melinda a few seconds to process what he was saying, as her hearing had been momentarily blocked.

“I do,” Melinda reported. She quickly gave Phil a once over, pleased to see he wasn’t injured. “I’m getting him out of here.”

Phil grasped her arm. “Skye. Where’s Skye?”

As soon as he had said it, Skye’s voice could be heard over the din. “DADDY!”

Phil’s grip tightened. “I’m not leaving her.”

The first rule of being in the Secret Service: Protect the President at whatever cost. He needed to be removed from the area as soon as possible. She looked at Phil squarely in the eye.

“Neither am I.”

Melinda shoved Phil into a nearby alcove and charged into the smog. She could barely see in front of her. A growing heat told her there was a fire somewhere, and smoke was filling her lungs at an alarming rate.

“Skye?” she called, struggling to hear.

A second explosion rocked the building. Melinda fell to the ground, fear increasing exponentially. She had to move fast.

“Skye?” she tried again, raising her voice. She scrambled to her feet. _Please, please, please…_

“Melinda?”

“Skye! Where are you, sweetie? Talk to me.”

“Over here.”

Melinda groaned. That didn’t help at all. Her hearing was off, and she could barely see. Dust clouded her vision in every direction. She tripped over something hard, catching herself at the last second.

“Keep talking to me, Skye. I’ll find you.”

Static crackled in her ear. “May, have you gotten the President out?”

“In the process, sir.”

“Melinda, I’m scared,” Skye sobbed. Her voice came from Melinda’s left. Moving that way, she squinted and could just make out a tiny shape a few feet away.

“Skye,” Melinda breathed, kneeling by the little girl. She was curled up on the ground, her whole body covered in a thick layer of dust and soot. “Are you hurt?”

Skye shook her head. Tear tracks were apparent on her face. “Where’s my daddy?”

“He’s behind me,” Melinda said. “I’m going to get you two out of here, okay?”

She scooped Skye up in her arms and ran back the way she came. Or, she hoped it was the way she came. She couldn’t quite tell.

“Daddy?” Skye yelled before being struck with a coughing fit.

“Keep your mouth covered, Skye,” Melinda instructed. “I’ll get you to your daddy.”

It took a few minutes longer than Melinda would have preferred, but eventually Melinda could partially see the wall she had been standing by when the first explosion hit.

_Please let him be okay._

“Mr. President?” she called.

A cough, and then, “Here.”

Melinda located the alcove and found Phil crouched inside. Skye squirmed, and Melinda set her down. Skye run forward and hugged her father tightly. Phil closed his eyes and burrowed his face in her neck.

“Mr. President,” Melinda said, her breathing ragged. A few coughs escaped her. “Phil. We have to get out of here.”

Phil looked up and nodded. He kept Skye in his arms as he stood.

“Lead the way,” he said.

Sticking close to the wall, Melinda followed it until her hand hit a door. She opened it and looked inside, relieved to discover a hallway lined with what she assumed were offices. She ushered Phil and Skye in, closing the door behind her. The three of them moved down the hall and came to an exit at the end.

“Let me check,” she said, stepping ahead of Phil. She cautiously opened the door and checked the outside. Police cars had surrounded the building. She opened the door wider and allowed Phil and Skye to step out.

“I need a car,” she yelled, catching the attention of the nearest officer. She looked startled at the sight of the President emerging from the building covered in dust, but handed the keys to a cruiser over with no objections. The officer pointed at the proper vehicle, and the three of them ran over. Melinda helped Phil and Skye get in the back before hopping in the driver’s seat. She stuck the key in the ignition and turned the car on, peeling away from the scene and merging onto the street.

“Shouldn’t we do something to help?” Phil asked, twisting in his seat to look at the crumbling building.

“My number one objective is to get you to safety, Mr. President.”

“Phil.”

She ignored him and turned on the police lights and sirens. Cars began parting for them on the street, and Melinda increased their speed. She glanced at the duo in the back.

“Get down.”

“Excuse me?”

“Get down. Don’t let anyone see you.”

Phil obeyed, ducking down. He cradled Skye close to his side, and the little girl began crying anew. He shushed her gently and whispered soothing words in her ear. Feeling intrusive, Melinda blocked out their conversation and focused on the road.

With her speedy driving, Melinda got them to the secure location in a matter of minutes. It was an underground bunker situated a few miles from the White House. Melinda made sure there was no one around before bringing Phil and Skye inside.

The bunker was furnished with only a table and a bed. Crates filled with food and other supplies lined one wall. Melinda flicked on the overhead lights and locked the door behind them.

She located a burner phone in one of the crates and called Fury to update him. While she did, Phil settled on the bed with Skye still in his arms.

“Do you think everyone is okay?” Skye asked, sniffling. Phil kissed her forehead.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” He squeezed Skye tightly. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

“For what?”

“For having this ruin your birthday. I’ll make it up to you when this is all over, I promise.”

Skye contemplated it for a moment. “It didn’t _totally_ ruin it. I’m with you and Melinda. That makes me happy.”

Melinda had just hung up when Skye said the last part. The little girl could barely comprehend what had happened. She didn’t see the tragedy behind it, what this could mean for the country’s safety. Melinda wished she could have Skye’s mindset.

Phil spotted Melinda standing by the door. The second she realized he was looking at her, she averted her gaze.

_Distance,_ she reminded herself. _You need distance. You cannot get close._

“You can sit down,” Phil said. Melinda stiffened at the sound of his voice.

“I’m fine, sir.”

“ _Phil._ ”

“Are you hurt in any way, sir?”

Phil shifted Skye in his arms. “I’m not telling you until you agree to call me Phil again.”

Melinda gritted her teeth. “Are you hurt, Phil?”

He smiled cheekily, which looked out of place (yet no less wonderful) considering what had happened. “No. I had a great agent protecting me.” His gaze turned into a concerned one. “Are you?”

Her eyes still stung from all the smoke, and her chest was tight. There was a chance she had pulled something in her lower back one of the times she fell, too.

“No.”

Skye stirred. Melinda thought she had fallen asleep. “Come here, Melinda,” she mumbled. Phil raised his eyebrows at the agent.

“I think I’m going to stay over here, Skye,” she answered, trying to avoid Phil’s gaze. Skye let out a little moan.

“Please?”

_Maybe Fury’s on to something,_ Melinda thought as she found herself walking over to the bed. She was helpless against Skye’s begging, and based on the look Phil was wearing, he knew it, too.

Melinda hesitated next to the bed, unsure of where to go. It was large enough for all of them to sleep on if they truly wanted, which didn’t seem that awful to Melinda.

“Snuggle with me?” Skye requested. Melinda mentally cursed all the times she had indulged the little girl in cuddles at the end of the day. It was the type of thing Fury told her not to do, but Melinda had never been one for following the rules.

Phil began to relinquish his hold on Skye, but she just clutched him tighter. He frowned.

“I thought you wanted Melinda.”

“I want you, too.”

Melinda’s lips parted. _Oh, no…_

“We have to obey the birthday girl,” Phil said softly. He maneuvered himself and Skye onto their backs and turned them so they were lying along the length of the bed. Melinda was still frozen. Phil looked up at her. “You coming?”

Melinda’s throat was dry. “I don’t think this is a good idea…”

But it seemed so appealing.

“Melinda,” Skye whined.

“Melinda,” Phil murmured, his blue eyes pleading with her.

_Like father, like daughter._

Slowly, Melinda peeled off her jacket and lowered herself onto the bed. She inched closer to the pair, wrapping her arm around Skye’s waist. Her hand grazed Phil’s side, and she immediately withdrew it, limiting her contact to Skye only. Skye hummed her contentment and relaxed. After a few minutes, the only sound in the bunker was her soft breathing as she drifted off to sleep.

Melinda remained tense, keeping her gaze on Skye’s head. She could feel Phil watching her, but she refused to look up.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Saving us. Going back for Skye. I know you’re supposed to get me out first, but you helped her instead.”

Melinda shifted. “Like I said before, she’s a wonderful girl.”

“Melinda.”

There was something in his voice that made her unable to resist looking up. She met his gaze, her breath catching slightly when she saw those damn blue eyes. She gasped when she felt his hand cover hers where it rested on Skye.

“I just want you to know,” he said, “that you’re very important to Skye. And anyone who is important to Skye is important to me.”

“You’re just saying that because I saved your life.” She tried to play it off as a joke, but there was a modicum of truth to it. Phil shook his head.

“Skye talks about you all the time. I might not speak to you, but I feel like I know you. And I’m not saying anything needs to happen between us, but I’d like to get to know you more. On my own.”

Once again, Melinda found herself unable to resist. Only this time, she didn’t even want to.

“I’d like to get to know you, too,” she whispered.

Phil rubbed his thumb over the back of Melinda’s hand, sending shivers down her spine.

“It’s a date.”


	2. You're Welcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was also posted two years ago, just in case people think it's a new chapter.

Melinda tried her best not to look at the clock again. She knew it would only make her more restless, which would just make time move slower. _Patient, be patient._

Melinda was hungry. No, scratch that, she was _starving._ She had been running late that morning thanks to an unexpected phone call from her mother, and she had skipped breakfast. In addition to that, the night before she had only managed a paltry sandwich due to the benefit President Coulson had to attend. A security detail was necessary, as usual, and by the end of the night Melinda was so exhausted she just collapsed into bed.

So really, she hadn’t eaten much in the past twenty-four hours, and she was quite eager to rectify that.

She was currently stuck in a briefing that was supposedly going to let out at 12:30. At least, that was what Fury had claimed.

“Now,” he was saying, drawing Melinda from her thoughts about her aching stomach, “Next week the President has his conference with England’s Prime Minister, which I’m sure you’re all aware of.” He sent a stern look around the table, receiving tight nods from the assembled agents.

“The President has requested a small Secret Service team, as he doesn’t want to come off as ‘too threatening or paranoid-looking.’” Fury rolled his one good eye, and Melinda suppressed a smile. “So, Barton, Hill, and May, you’re all coming with me.” Fury’s gaze rested on Melinda far longer than the others, and she felt like squirming.

“Alright, get out of here, all of you.” Fury waved his hand, and the room emptied faster than you could say “Free pizza buffet.” Melinda practically jumped out of her chair in her haste to leave, but before she could make it to the door, Fury stopped her.

“May, a word.”

“Sir?” She tried to act clueless, but it didn’t take a mind-reader to know what was coming.

“I hope I haven’t made a bad call in having you come to England,” he said sternly.

“Have I done something to make you think you did?” she asked as politely as she could.

“Not yet,” Fury admitted. “You’re one of my best agents, if not the best. You’ve done incredible things for this country.” His glare intensified. “But while I may be missing one eye, I’m not blind. I can see how close you are to the First Daughter, and I know the President is aware of it, too. Don’t make it a security risk.”

“Understood.”

Fury stared at her for a moment longer before nodding, satisfied. “Have a good lunch, May.”

“You too, sir.”

Melinda sped from the room, desperate to put as much distance as possible between her and her boss. Over the past few weeks, those talks had gotten more frequent, and Melinda’s movements had been heavily scrutinized. She knew exactly why, but that did nothing to calm her. In fact, it made the unease she felt worse. 

Nearly a month ago, two bombs had gone off at the First Daughter’s birthday party. Melinda had taken it upon herself to get the little girl and her father out, and she did without difficulty. She brought them to an underground bunker, where they waited for several hours until more Secret Service agents came to debrief the President and take them home.

Within that span of time, Melinda found herself lying on a bed with Skye, the First Daughter, curled up against her side, and Skye’s father, the President of the Freaking United States, holding Melinda’s hand. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t enjoyed it. That terrified her.

He had confessed he wanted to get to know her better, and Melinda wanted that too, but since then she had only seen him when she was on his security detail. The aftermath of the bombings had been a major blow for the country, and President Coulson was put under near-constant surveillance.

The bombers had been apprehended just last week, and the public was beginning to get back on its feet. That meant the President’s schedule was lightening up (as much as the leader of the free world’s schedule could lighten up), and Melinda had no clue as to what would happen.

On one hand, she wished he would just forget about her. Fury was watching her every move like a hawk, and if he caught her in any state of friendship (or something else) with Coulson – _Phil,_ he had kept insisting – she would lose her job. And even if he wasn’t, getting close to the President had “bad news” written all over it.

Yet, whenever Melinda told herself that, she remembered Phil’s blue eyes. She remembered his smile. She remembered the way his hand felt resting over hers.

And she wondered if maybe getting to know him wasn’t so bad.

And then she debated whether or not she should just quit now before things got messy.

Melinda shook her head. She was getting ahead of herself. It had been a week since the bombers were caught, and nothing from Phil. Therefore, his words at the bunker were simply said in the heat of the moment. He had more important things to do (like run a country) than organize dates with his Secret Service agents.

And if Melinda felt a shred of disappointment, she pushed it away.

She was halfway to the kitchen when a high, tiny voice called her name.

“Melinda!”

“Hello, Skye.” Any irritation Melinda had felt about being interrupted was gone at the sight of the First Daughter coming her way. She automatically knelt down so she was at Skye’s level.

“Where are you going?” Skye asked.

“I was going to get some lunch,” Melinda explained, glancing wistfully down the hall. Her stomach growled.

“I’m going to eat lunch, too!” Skye exclaimed. Her eyes lit up, as though she had just come up with the most wonderful idea. “Will you eat with me?”

“Oh, sweetie, that’s very kind of you, but I should probably be alone.” Fury’s words echoed in her mind. No attachments.

“Please? I have no one to eat with.” Skye lowered her head, and Melinda cursed herself for falling prey to the cutest girl on the planet.

“Oh, alright. I suppose one lunch won’t hurt.”

“Yay!” Skye brightened immediately and grabbed Melinda’s hand, leading her back down the hall in the direction Melinda had come. She began chattering about her newest toy, all traces of sadness gone, and Melinda suspected she had just been played.

She was proven correct when Skye finally brought her to their destination. Melinda thought they were going to Skye’s bedroom, or maybe a more private kitchen.

She didn’t realize she was going to be dining in the Oval Office that afternoon.

“Daddy!” Skye released Melinda’s hand and raced over to her father, who opened his arms right in time to catch her. Melinda stood rooted in the doorway, half-debating running away.

“Hello, princess,” Phil said, kissing Skye’s cheek. “How’s your day been so far?”

“Good,” Skye replied with a shrug. She grinned. “Better now I’m with you.”

“I feel the same way.” Phil looked up at Melinda, and a soft smile spread across his face. Melinda’s stomach did an odd jump.

“Hi.”

She forced herself to swallow. “Hi.”

“Will you be joining us for lunch?”

Melinda suddenly felt a wave of guilt for interrupting their special time. “I – Uh, no, I – I didn’t – Skye told me she was eating alone, and I felt bad.”

Melinda hated how lame she sounded. Phil simply smiled wider, clearly amused by how flustered she was.

“Nicely done, princess,” he said to Skye.

“I said it just like you told me to!” Skye declared proudly.

Melinda’s eyes darted from Phil to Skye.

“Wait,” she said, “Did you _tell_ her to lie to me?”

Phil’s expression turned sheepish. “I didn’t think you would accept a lunch invitation if it came from me.”

“Wouldn’t I have to? You _are_ the President.”

“Probably, but it wouldn’t be the same.” Phil suddenly seemed nervous. “If you really don’t want to stay, you’re free to go.” Skye began to protest this, but Phil shushed her, keeping his gaze on Melinda.

He was telling the truth, Melinda could tell. She could turn on her heel and walk straight from this room, and he wouldn’t hold it against her. If she was smart, she would do exactly that. These were dangerous waters, and moving further in could result in disastrous consequences.

“Well…” she said slowly, “I do remember you saying something about a date.”

Tentative hope flashed across Phil’s face. “You want this to be our date?”

Instead of speaking, Melinda simply walked deeper into the room and settled on one of the couches. She removed her jacket and draped it over the back of the couch.

“What’s for lunch?”

“Macaroni and cheese!” Skye blurted, overjoyed at this latest development. She slid from her father’s lap and darted over to Melinda, hopping up beside the Secret Service agent.

“Sounds delicious,” Melinda commented, looking back at Phil. He was smiling warmly at her, and her stomach tingled.

“See, Daddy? Melinda loves mac and cheese,” Skye boasted. Melinda suppressed a giggle brought on by the little girl’s tone.

“You’re right, princess,” Phil said, standing up. “You should just run the whole country, you’re so much smarter than me.” He winked at Melinda and joined the two on the couch.

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Skye stage-whispered to Melinda.

“I don’t know, I think your dad can be pretty smart when he wants to be,” Melinda said.

“I think that’s a compliment. So thank you,” Phil said with an inclination of his head. Melinda shrugged.

“A backhanded one, but you’re welcome.”

“I can have you deported, you know.”

“Then you’d lose one of the best members of your security detail.”

“You think very highly of yourself.”

“I did save your life a few weeks ago.”

“That you did.” All remnants of teasing left his expression. “Thank you, again, for that.”

Melinda blushed, ducking her head. “It’s my job.”

“So, you wouldn’t save me if I wasn’t the President?” He was joking again, but it struck something within Melinda.

“No, I would,” she said softly, looking up again. Their gazes met, and Melinda practically stopped breathing at the intensity in his eyes.

“Well, either way, thank you.”

“You said that already.”

“Once doesn’t seem enough.”

“You’ve said it more than once.”

“Can’t you just take my gratitude?” Phil laughed, warming Melinda’s body. She smiled.

“You’re welcome.”

“Thank you, Melinda,” Skye said. She spoke quietly, but the two adults still jumped, having forgotten she was there. Melinda glanced down to see Skye fidgeting in her seat.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” she replied in an equally soft voice. It suddenly hit Melinda how close she had been to losing this sweet, vibrant girl. It scared her far more than it should have. Melinda brushed Skye’s hair back behind her ear, earning her a smile from Skye.

The content feeling in her stomach only confirmed what she already knew: she was in way too deep.

* * *

 

Phil watched this interaction closely, a long-forgotten feeling blooming in his chest. It was an odd warmth, a happy warmth, the kind he associated with quiet nights and peaceful days.

It was the way he used to feel every time he saw Skye curled up with her mother. He had always pictured it as sunlight in his body, filling him up from head to toe. It had been a long, long time since he’d felt it last.

But there it was, once again, and it led Phil to a very important conclusion: He didn’t want to lose it again.


	3. Phil and Melinda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The long-awaited third part. I'm going all in on this as a multichapter, which I think you'll be able to see. Hopefully I won't make a mess of it. A massive thank you to everyone who has expressed interest in this throughout the years! This is for all of you. <3

Despite having been a member of the Secret Service for nearly a year now, Melinda had never been given the opportunity to travel outside of the country. President Coulson had spent the first couple months of his term working through some domestic issues before he ventured abroad, and when that time had come, Fury had opted to leave Melinda behind to watch over Skye. Back then, Melinda had bristled at staying in the country. She had been hired to protect the President, so why wasn’t she doing that?

Over time, she learned not to care so much about what her assignments were. Some days they would be vital, like being on the President’s detail as he made a speech regarding the terrorist attack that had occurred at his daughter’s birthday party. Other days, she would be tasked with checking on their comms system to ensure they were still working properly.

No agent was more important than another. Fury believed in that and was not shy in letting others know.

That was why Melinda was honored Fury had selected her to travel to England for President Coulson’s meeting with the Prime Minister. Despite all the awkwardness and tension she’d been feeling with her boss, she had proven her skills to him, and it had not gone unnoticed.

As she packed her things for the trip, she made a resolution: No talking (or anything else that could possibly get her in trouble) to the President. He couldn’t be Phil to her for the next few days; he was President Coulson.

She had no doubt the President would be unhappy with this, but Fury would be watching her like a hawk. Now wasn’t the time to slip up, no matter how much she enjoyed her burgeoning friendship with Ph-the President.

On the flight to England, it was easy to avoid the President. Air Force One was a large plane, large enough for Melinda to stay with Barton and Hill and not see anyone else. She knew the President would be in his office preparing for his meeting with the Prime Minister. As long as she stayed away from that area, she would be fine.

Once they touched the ground in England, however, it got a bit more difficult, mainly because Melinda’s job was to be at the President’s side at almost every waking minute. He did not try to speak to her whenever they were traveling with the other Secret Service members, but he did attempt to catch her eye more than once.

“Are you okay, May?” Barton asked her. They were on the way to 10 Downing Street, and Melinda had just ducked quickly into a car to avoid the President’s earnest gaze.

“Yes,” she replied in a clipped tone. Barton raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “You sound totally okay.”

Melinda suppressed an eyeroll and didn’t respond. She could have sworn the President looked disappointed when she averted her eyes, and it made her stomach twinge uncomfortably.

This trip was already proving to be harder than she expected.

Barton fiddled with his earpiece, something he was always prone to do because of his hearing issues. “You know, if you _weren’t_ okay…”

“Thanks for the concern,” Melinda cut in bluntly. “But I’m fine.”

Socializing with people had been her strong suit once, but certain experiences had changed her and made it difficult to open up. Skye – and by extension, her father – had been the first person in ages to break through her walls, something that Melinda suspected had been aided by her adorableness. Despite working in close quarters with the other agents for months, she hadn’t let herself get friendly with them. She’d learned her lesson a long time ago.

The rest of the car ride to the Prime Minister’s residence was silent, and for that, Melinda was grateful. She needed to focus, and to do that, her almost encounter with the President had to be locked down. It wouldn’t do her any good to get wistful about the look in his perfectly blue eyes.

The press was there to capture President Coulson’s arrival at Downing Street, and Melinda and the other agents were right by his side. The President didn’t attempt to get her attention again, and she couldn’t tell if she was relieved or disappointed.

Prime Minister Margaret Carter was charming and polite, and it appeared she and President Coulson got along quite well. It was foolish to believe all foreign leaders would become friends and work together peacefully, but it seemed the Prime Minister and the President had similar values that complimented each other well. It looked like relations between the US and the UK were going to be quite stable for the next few years, barring no huge incident.

The meeting between the two leaders stretched on for hours, leaving the Secret Service to stand outside the room and keep watch. What they were watching for exactly was unclear, but it was their duty, and they did it without complaint. Melinda was just grateful she wasn’t being subjected to Fury’s intense scrutiny. If her boss had noticed any tension between her and President Coulson, he hadn’t said anything.

_So far, so good,_ she thought.

The first day of meetings drew to a close around six o’clock, and President Coulson was escorted back to The Dorchester, where he would be staying for the duration of the trip. Fittingly, he’d be staying in the Presidential Suite while his agents would be in the surrounding rooms. Melinda was rooming with Hill, something she was grateful for, because she knew the other woman wouldn’t try to talk to her too much.

Once ensuring President Coulson was safely in his room, Melinda went straight into hers with no intention of leaving it until the morning. She didn’t believe the President would do anything when they were so close to the other agents (he would never do such a thing), but it was better to just remove any possibility of it. She was dressed and ready for bed before Hill had even finished her shower.

She hadn’t anticipated just how much she would miss talking to Ph-the President. Their lunch “date” in the Oval Office the previous week had only cemented her desire to get to know him better, but in preparation for the trip to England, they hadn’t been able to speak since. And now with her self-imposed rule of avoiding any interaction with him in the coming days, it was unlikely she’d really get time with him until next week. It wasn’t a terribly long time, but it already felt like ages.

The knowledge that he was just across the hall with no distractions (unless he was Skyping Skye) was almost too much to bear. It would be so easy to slip across, to close the gap and see him…

But she couldn’t. If anyone saw them – if _Fury_ saw them – the fallout would be disastrous. Staying put was her best option for numerous reasons, and Melinda ran them through her mind until she fell asleep.

The next morning, she woke up at five. In the bed beside hers, Hill slept soundly. The President didn’t need to be back at Downing Street until nine, so the agents weren’t required to be ready until he was. Melinda had always been an early riser; she preferred to start her day promptly and get more things accomplished.

What she could really use today was a good workout. There was little she could do in her room with Hill sleeping, and she couldn’t afford to go on a lengthy run in the city in case she was needed back at the hotel for the President. The gym was her best option. After changing into her workout clothes, she slipped from the room and went in search of the fitness center.

Running on the treadmill was a poor substitute for running outside, but she had to settle for it. The pounding of her feet on the track still loosened the knots in her shoulders and eased her stresses away. They would no doubt return by the time she made it back upstairs, but it was nice to be rid of them for a while.

There was a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall across from her displaying BBC News. The current story was about the country’s economy, and Melinda allowed herself to tune it out.

The next time she looked at the television, footage of President Coulson’s arrival in London was playing. Melinda was proud of the fact that her pace didn’t falter at all, even if her heart stuttered a little.

After some cooldown stretches, she headed back up to her room. She’d spent an hour in the fitness center, and she was uncertain if Hill would be awake by this time. She hoped Hill wouldn’t be, mainly because she wanted to keep the peace a bit longer.

She was just pulling out the key card for her room when she heard the door behind her open. Her hand stilled, the key card hovering above the slot. She knew exactly who would be standing behind her, and it made her spine tingle.

“Have a nice workout?” the President asked. Melinda took a deep breath and turned to face him. Her stomach gave a little jolt when she saw he was still in his pajamas, his hair still sleep-matted.

“Were you waiting for me?” she asked.

Phil – the _President_ – leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed. Melinda glanced up and down the hall. Imagine if Fury came out of his room at that exact moment…

“That would be really creepy, wouldn’t it? No, I just heard footsteps stop outside my door and got concerned.” He smiled then, and his eyes seemed to brighten with it. “I was happy to see it was you.”

Melinda clutched her key card so tightly the edges dug into her skin. This was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid. She needed to get out of it and fast.

“Mr. President –”

“Aha,” he said, some of the brightness leaving his eyes. “So we’re back to that. You know, this feels awfully repetitive.”

Melinda flicked her gaze to Fury’s door. “ _Phil,_ ” she said quietly, privately enjoying being able to say it. “I’m just doing my job. Things need to stay professional.”

Phil raised an eyebrow, and she swore he almost looked amused. “Who said anything about not being professional?”

She shut her mouth, wondering for a brief moment if she’d misjudged everything. But she couldn’t have. He’d used the word _date_ more than once. That wasn’t a word people used when they were keeping things platonic.

At least, she hoped it wasn’t.

“While we’re here,” she said, choosing to ignore that for the time being, “I need to be able to protect you. This,” she gestured between the two of them, “can’t exist.”

She wasn’t even sure what she meant by “this,” and based on the look on Phil’s face, he didn’t either. Her cheeks warmed.

“I understand,” he said. “Agent.”

That was more of a slap in the face than she thought it would be. Really, it shouldn’t be, because she had brought this on herself. But the warmth that she had seen in him had lessened considerably, and it hurt her.

In that moment, she made a decision.

“Phil,” she said before she could talk herself out of it. He hadn’t moved at all, just continued to stare at her. She clasped her hands behind her back and straightened. “This doesn’t mean I don’t want to…” she faltered. Be his friend? Reach the point where they could be something else? Did she even want something else? Was that even on the table? Her head spun with unanswered and, in some cases, unasked questions.  This was moving too fast for her to keep up.

“I know,” he said. The warring questions in her head fell silent, and she looked at him hopefully. He smiled. “You have a job to do. I get it. Considering how that job is to protect me, I should really be grateful you take it so seriously.”

Her lips curved into a little smile. “Once this trip is finished, we can be Phil and Melinda again.”

“And that’s what you want?” Whether he noticed it or not, he’d taken a tiny step forward. “I’m not forcing you or anything?”

She could hardly believe the words were coming from her mouth, but they fell from it easily. “It’s what I want. No presidential pressure.”

Phil’s smile widened, and Melinda was struck at how much younger he looked. It was impossible not to smile back.

“I’ve never wanted a diplomatic trip to end quicker,” he said. Melinda didn’t know how to respond to that, so she turned and ducked into her room.

If she was being honest, she felt the same way.

* * *

 

Despite the internal wishes of Melinda and Ph-the President, the visit seemed to drag on for an annoyingly long time. Melinda’s days were filled with working the protection detail, and his were spent locked up behind closed doors with Prime Minister Carter and her advisors. The topics of their meetings ranged from climate change to terrorism. There was an abundance of things to discuss, and Melinda was incredibly grateful she didn’t have to deal with it.

As excited as she had been to travel overseas with the President, she had to admit the whole thing was rather routine. The newness of being in a different country had worn off around the same time her jetlag did, and now it was just like being in the US. She longed to explore London, since she hadn’t been since she was a college student, but Fury wouldn’t let any of them go off on their own. The President’s needs surpassed their desires, as they should.

“I just want one picture with Big Ben,” Barton declared. It was their fourth day in London, and they were escorting the President through the hotel to his room. The Dorchester staff had been incredibly accommodating and ensured their whole floor would be empty except for them. It made their jobs easier and meant that as soon as they reached the floor, they could relax a little.

“You have some free time now,” the President said. “Go ahead and see the sights. You guys deserve it.”

Hill shook her head, letting her hair fall out of the tight bun she’d kept it in during the day. “Fury’s orders say we have to be near you at all times. Can’t be too safe.”

President Coulson snorted. “Fury can be overprotective.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Hill replied, her voice curt. “You’re the President. It’s best to be overprotective when it comes to you.”

Melinda admired Hill. She was a no-nonsense woman, and she did her job well. They were the only female Secret Service agents, so they shared a sort of unspoken camaraderie. Melinda was enjoying getting to know her better on the trip.

“Good point,” President Coulson said. “Still, I feel bad you can’t see the city.”

“Eh, it’s what we’re used to,” Barton said, coming to a stop beside the President’s door. He took his earpiece out and glared at it distastefully before sticking it in his pocket. “Besides, it wouldn’t be fair for us to sightsee when you can’t. Sir,” he added as an afterthought. Melinda had noticed Barton sometimes forgot how the chain of command worked.

President Coulson smiled and shrugged. “The life of a politician. I made my bed, I’ve got to lie in it.”

Barton and Hill both laughed, Barton out of delight, Hill out of politeness. Melinda merely cracked a smile, despite almost wanting to do more.

“Is this your first time in London, sir?” asked Hill. They were still all standing in the hallway, but surprisingly it didn’t feel awkward, even though they were the President of the United States and his subordinates. That was what Melinda found to be so extraordinary about President Coulson: his friendliness and ability to shed the role of politician so easily to just become a normal man. It was a side few Americans saw, but if given the chance, he would show everyone. She was certain of it.

“Actually, yes,” President Coulson answered. “I wanted to study here when I was in school, but I chose a program in DC instead. Thought it would make more sense with my career path.”

Barton nodded to the small American flag pinned to the President’s lapel, the one all politicians wore. “Yeah, I’d say you made a smart choice.”

“Thanks, Barton.” President Coulson chuckled. “London has always been on my list of places to see. I’ll just have to come back another time to really see it.” He paused, thoughtful. “Maybe when I’m out of the White House. I could bring Skye.” He automatically brightened at the thought of his Skye. It made Melinda’s insides warm.

“I’m sure your daughter would like that very much, sir,” said Hill.

“I don’t know if London is one of her dream spots.” He turned to Melinda then, who had been silently hiding behind Hill. Her stomach dropped when he looked at her, and she cursed herself for feeling like a teenager. “Agent May would probably know better than me. What do you think? Would Skye like it here?”

Suddenly they were all staring at her. She kept her face blank, though her thoughts were currently cursing out the President for the pleased gleam in his eyes.

“One of her best friends is Jemma Simmons,” Melinda replied. “The British ambassador’s daughter. I think she’s heard stories of this place from her and wants to see it all firsthand.”

President Coulson nodded, as though he approved of her answer. Melinda suspected (hoped, really) he liked that she knew his daughter so well.

“It’s settled then,” he said. “First vacation out of the White House, we’re coming here.”

President Coulson looked once more towards Melinda, and she swore his smile softened. Her lips curved into the smallest of grins. Then she forced herself to look away. He cleared his throat.

“Great work today, agents,” he said. “See you in the morning. I’ll see what I can do about getting you your Big Ben picture, Barton.”

Barton brightened. “Thank you, sir. Much appreciated.”

The President nodded to them all before entering his room. Barton shook his head as he walked to his own door.

“I swear, sometimes it’s hard to believe he’s a politician,” he said. Hill and Melinda exchanged an amused look.

“Got something against politicians?” Hill asked. Barton turned to look at them both.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Hill snorted, and Melinda smirked. Barton winked at them before saying good night and disappearing into his room.

“He’s right though,” Hill said once she and Melinda had moved inside their room. “President Coulson is better than most. Possibly better than all.”

Melinda thought of the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her, of the way he playfully said her name and tried to be her friend. The little smile on her face grew.

“I think you might be right,” she said.

* * *

 

After several more days, President Coulson’s trip to England ended. There was a special dinner held in his honor on the last night, and both Prime Minister Carter and the Queen herself attended. Melinda was present, of course, along with the other agents. They watched from afar as the President interacted with England’s highest officials and bolstered their countries’ good relationship.

The next morning, Fury granted the agents two hours to go do as they wished. He stayed by the President’s side as they left, only looking mildly annoyed at Barton’s profuse gratitude. Hill had to drag Barton from the room in the end.

The other two agents invited Melinda to join them on their accelerated adventure, but she politely refused. As much as she wanted to see the sights, she had realized she would enjoy them far better with another pair. Another pair she had no claim to and no guarantee of spending time with. Still, she wanted it all the same.

Instead, she opted to wander Hyde Park. It was right across the street from The Dorchester. The sky was a bit overcast, but it was on the warmer side, and the park was filled with people walking along the paths. Melinda always enjoyed going for little walks. They cleared her head and got her moving, which was quite nice when she sometimes spent her days standing in once place for hours at a time.

Eventually she exited the park and walked across the street. She was now in a busier area, on a street lined with shops. Following the crowd, she slowed her pace to look at all the storefronts. She had no intention of buying anything, but then she spotted a store called Crest of London. It was a tourist shop by the looks of it, and Melinda found herself perusing the different items for sale.

Shelves lined with teddy bears caught her eye. Some of them were dressed like the guards that stood outside Buckingham Palace, complete with a fluffy black hat. She only had to look at them for a second before she picked one up and brought it to the back counter to pay for it.

Skye would love it.

* * *

 

A few hours later, after all the agents had returned to the hotel, the President and his entourage had left the hotel and driven to the airfield, where they boarded Air Force One for the flight home. As the plane took off, Melinda was regaled with stories about Barton and Hill’s quick jaunt around London. Really all she wanted to do was curl up somewhere and sleep, but she forced herself to be polite and listen.

“And Barton tried to get the guard to flinch,” Hill said, dropping into a chair in the Secret Service area. Melinda raised an eyebrow at Barton.

“I know, I know,” he said. “It was a pointless attempt, but I don’t think you’ve really lived until you’ve tried it.” He tossed Hill a water bottle, and she caught it with a thankful salute. He offered one to Melinda, but she shook her head.

“If anyone found out you were a Secret Service agent and you still did that,” Hill said, “there would be a scandal.”

“Oh, please.” Barton flopped down onto the chair behind Hill’s. “I could create a far worse scandal if I wanted to. That wasn’t bad.”

“No,” Melinda said. “I’m sure Fury would find it hilarious.”

The look of fear on Barton’s face was worth speaking up. Hill snorted and pulled a book out of her carryon. Barton sprawled across his seat and closed his eyes. The steady hum of the jet replaced the talking, and Melinda was relieved. She’d found she liked Barton and Hill’s company, but socializing was… draining to say the least. She enjoyed her solitude.

She had initially planned to just grab a seat and take a nap, but a cup of tea sounded rather good. Leaving the Secret Service area, she picked her way through the plane to the kitchen. It was near the front, close to the President’s suite and office. There were two chefs already hard at work with preparing dinner, but they left Melinda to her own devices as she boiled the hot water for her tea.

“Fancy seeing you here,” someone said behind her. Turning, Melinda saw President Coulson standing by the door, a pleased smile on his lips. His suit jacket was gone, and the sleeves of his button-up were rolled to his elbows. His tie was loosened too. She kept her face expressionless even as her heart leapt.

“It’s almost like I work for you,” she said. He laughed.

“Fair enough.” His eyes jumped to the chefs, who had murmured hellos when he came in but otherwise were ignoring them. He seemed to weigh his words before he spoke next. “So. The trip is over…”

Melinda looked away from him as the kettle started whistling. She poured the water into a mug and dunked her tea bag in. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears.

“So it is,” she said. She turned her head to the side ever so slightly and looked at him. “Phil.”

Something like relief washed over his face, and his smile widened. Melinda allowed herself a begrudging smile of her own. Phil stepped to the side and gestured to the space beside him.

“Come join me in my office?” he asked.

Considering how they were on Air Force One and Fury was lurking around somewhere, this was probably a terrible idea. And yet, after days of avoiding speaking to him, she found she didn’t care.

“I’ve never been in here before,” she said as they entered his office. She assumed he’d automatically sit behind the desk, but instead he took a seat in one of the chairs on the other side of it. She thought that was quite sweet of him.

“You’ve been on Air Force One before though, right?” he asked. Melinda sat in the chair next to him and took a small sip of her still scalding tea.

“Yes. For your trips to Boston and Seattle."

Phil looked surprised. “I don’t remember seeing you on those trips.”

“Because I do my job really well,” she replied. She took another sip of her tea and smirked. Phil chuckled.

“I supposed that’s a good thing.” He regarded her for a long moment, long enough that Melinda felt her cheeks warm. She hated that she could. “How’d you like this trip?”

She shrugged. “It was boring.” Phil laughed again, which surprised her. People never laughed at what she had to say. “Which is better than being exciting.”

“Is it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He put his elbow on the arm of his chair and leaned his head against his hand. “Some people would disagree with you. I’d probably be one of them.”

Melinda swirled her teabag around before plucking it from the mug and tossing it into the trashcan beside the desk. “If it’s exciting, that usually means something has gone wrong.”

“Ah,” Phil said. “Then I can see why you think that way.”

For whatever reason, that made her smile. She brought her mug up to her lips in an attempt to hide it, but based on the way his eyes lit up, she guessed she hadn’t been successful.

“How was the trip for you?” she asked. Phil shrugged the same way she had.

“Fine. A success, I suppose.”

“You seemed to get along well with the Prime Minister.”

“She’s a remarkable woman,” he replied. His hand drifted up to fidget with his tie. “I got lucky this time. Not all foreign leaders are like her. She said that between Secretary Rogers and I, America is in good hands.” His cheeks got red as he said it, and Melinda bit her lip, suppressing a grin. He was humble. It was cute.

“She’s right,” she said gently. Phil looked at her, almost in surprise. His expression became grateful.

“I’m just trying my best,” he said, his voice quieter than before. He suddenly looked more worn, like the weight of his job decided to settle more heavily on his shoulders. Melinda felt a pang of compassion.

“No president is going to be perfect,” she said. “But they can be good. And I’d say that’s the kind you are.”

Phil didn’t respond right away, instead choosing to stare at her. Melinda found it hard to breathe with him looking at her like that, yet she couldn’t look away. The office suddenly felt too cramped, the air too thick. The roar of the engines seemed to dim.

“You’re just saying that,” he said finally, breaking the spell. Melinda took a large sip of her rapidly cooling tea. “You can’t insult the President to his face.”

Melinda snorted. “You want to bet?” Phil grinned, his eyes sparkling. She softened. “And I don’t say thing I don’t mean. I don’t believe in it.”

Phil nodded, a smirk playing at his lips. “That’s good to know.” He tugged on his tie again before looking down at it distastefully. He reached up with his other hand to unknot it. The silken material slid from his neck easily, and he tossed it onto his desk. Melinda swallowed, fully aware she was staring. Phil raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

This was such a terrible idea, and, really, she knew better. But the words came from her easily. “You look better without it.”

She might have imagined it, but she thought she saw his eyes darken. His smirk grew, and her stomach dropped ever so slightly.

“That’s also good to know,” he said, quieter this time, but not because of something heavy. She sipped her tea, meeting his gaze evenly. At this rate, she wouldn’t have any more tea to drink, and the little shield she had would disappear. Though, it hadn’t been much of a shield to begin with, considering what she’d just said. She didn’t regret it though.

“Melinda,” Phil said, seemingly relishing being able to say her name. “Tell me more about yourself.”

Melinda instinctively gripped her mug tighter. “What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

A slight panic rose up in her with that simple word. So simple that it really shouldn’t hold as much power as it did. He was watching her, waiting.

“That doesn’t give me a place to start,” she said, trying to quell the fear in her. It wasn’t like he was looking to learn everything _now_. She didn’t need to reveal much. Most likely just the basics, which was confirmed when he said, “Where did you grow up?”

Melinda went to take another sip of tea before she realized she had finished it. Setting her empty mug on the desk, she forced herself to look him in the eye.

“If I tell you,” she said, “you have to answer the question too.”

Phil looked surprised, but pleased. “Most people already know the answer.”

“I want to hear it from you.” She knew the answer, of course, but she really did want to hear him say it. It felt more personal that way, more… intimate. The word caught her by surprise, but she realized it fit the situation terrifyingly well.

“Manitowoc, Wisconsin,” he said, his voice growing fond. “Your turn.”

“Pennsylvania,” she replied. “Though I sometimes ended up traveling to other places depending on where my mother was stationed.” Phil’s eyes lit up with interest, and she quickly asked another question to avoid it. “What was your family like?”

Judging by the look on Phil’s face, he knew exactly what she just did. But, to his credit, he didn’t push her. “Just my parents. They’ve both passed.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I had just my parents too. Though they’re still alive.”

“Did you ever want siblings?” Phil asked, getting more comfortable in his chair. There was a growing sense of familiarity between them, and she found she didn’t mind it. “I did. I wanted a younger brother or sister to boss around.”

She surprised herself by laughing. It was only a quick chuckle, but it was more than she usually allowed. “I doubt that.”

Phil raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“Because,” she said, “you don’t seem the type to boss around someone smaller than you. Especially not someone who would look up to you like a sibling would.”

He softened at that. “But I’m the President. Isn’t that what I do?”

“You work with people,” she said evenly. “You give orders, but you’re fair about it. I wouldn’t say you ‘boss’ people around.”

“I wonder if the members of my cabinet would agree,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Melinda suppressed another laugh.

“I’ll ask Rogers next time I see him.”

Phil ran a hand over his hair, shaking his head in amusement. “You never answered my question.”

“No,” she said. “I never wanted siblings. I liked my privacy.”

“Somehow,” he said, “I guessed that.”

Something funny stirred in her stomach at his words. He was looking at her in the same way he had earlier, and she could feel the plane’s walls getting closer again. There was something growing between them, and she didn’t know what, but she almost wanted it to grow faster.

Then the door opened and everything fell apart.

“Mr. President,” Fury said, and stopped. His one good eye looked from Phil to Melinda. His face was blank, but Melinda could sense his displeasure. She gripped her armrest tightly, wishing she could be anywhere else.

“Yes?” prompted Phil, either not noticing the sudden tension or ignoring it. Fury took one last look at Melinda, no doubt intending it to say, ‘We’ll talk later,’ then put his focus on Phil. His next words shook Melinda to her core.

“We’ve just received word of another terrorist attack, sir.”

Phil closed his eyes. His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. Melinda suddenly wished they weren’t on an airplane.

“Same people as last time?” asked Phil, putting his emotions aside for the time being. Melinda had already done the same, as she had trained herself to do.

“Unclear,” Fury reported. “But we’re guessing yes.”

“Where?” Phil asked. Melinda hoped it wasn’t a big city like New York or DC, but the likelihood of that was slim.

For the first time, there was a flicker of emotion on Fury’s face, like he was unwilling to answer. The nausea in Melinda’s stomach grew.

“Wisconsin,” Fury said. “Manitowoc.”


End file.
